


silver spoon

by cakecakecake



Series: house of cards [2]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Anxiety, Established Relationship, F/F, Family, Implied Sexual Content, Morning Cuddles, Open Relationships, Pillow Talk, Teasing, Wedding Planning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-15 00:20:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18062987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cakecakecake/pseuds/cakecakecake
Summary: a collection of one-shots for nadia and the apprentice estelle.





	silver spoon

**Author's Note:**

> nadia and estelle laze in bed and talk about wedding preparations.

The light of morning is almost garish, seeping through the draping canopy uninvited.

Estelle squints, craning her neck as she hoists herself up on her elbows. The courtyard birds are chattering and twittering just outside the windows and good _gods_ they’re loud, nothing like the polite ringing of the wind chimes outside the shop. The faint scent of elderberry is soothing, though -- it seems Portia has brought in tea as well as drawn the curtains. The pot sits steaming atop the marble chiffonier, permeating the slowly brightening room with its heady scent. She shifts beneath the silken sheets, pulling them up over her shoulder as she snuggles in closer to the Countess. 

Nadia seems undisturbed by the noise, eyes still firmly shut, but Estelle doesn’t think she’s quite asleep anymore. She nudges her nose against her cheek and the Countess makes some small sigh of contentment as her arms stretch about her waist, pulling her against her. Estelle presses a soft kiss to her neck and she finally stirs. 

“It’s morning, isn’t it,” Nadia groans, half-smiling.

“Unfortunately,” Estelle hums. She swings her leg over Nadia’s hip. 

“Oh, unfortunate indeed,” Nadia agrees, fluttering her eyes open. “You slept well, I trust?”

“How couldn’t I have?” Estelle flirts and she giggles, breathy and easy. 

“Sweet girl. I’m glad -- you have quite a day ahead of you.” 

“It’s the rehearsal dinner tonight, right?” she wonders, genuinely confused. “Or is the tailor coming in for my fitting?”

“Both,” Nadia amends her. “Rehearsal dinner number one, after the tailors show us their first draft of your gown. Maybe we’ll have time to make adjustments on mine while they’re here...”

“Wait, there’s two?”

Nadia lifts her brows -- “Dresses?”

“Dinners!”

And then dissolves into gentle laughter -- “Oh, Estelle, you precious thing -- yes, for a royal ceremony, there must be two rehearsals.”

“Why?”

“In case the first one goes too well and we need another opportunity to mess everything up.”

“Weddings are so strange.” 

Nadia nods in admittance. “They are, quite. I suppose you wouldn’t remember attending my first.”

She wrinkles her nose, hardly believing. “I was invited?” 

“Of course you were little dove, the whole state is always invited,” she explains, patient and sweet, but Estelle is still slightly embarrassed.

“Oh, right, of course.”

She must still be making a face, because Nadia sits up, sweeping the hair from her eyes with a slender hand. “Peace, darling, I can tell you’re worried.”

“Me? Worried? About what?” she blinks three, four times, sarcastic smile and tone already sending her betrothed into a fit of amused laughter. “Having the population of a huge city-state watch me take the hand of their beloved Countess in marriage?”

“Oh, Estelle -- "

The former apprentice can share the laugh with her only for a moment before the weight of her anxiety sinks into her stomach, dropping like a heavy iron anvil. 

“Me, who’s faced the Devil head-on, petrified just thinking about hundreds of people watching me.” Her eyes cast down to her hands, chunky and pale next to Nadia’s. She rests them on top of hers and suddenly she feels small, too small, for the bed. For Nadia. Not in just in stature but in heart, in mind. She snickers at herself. “Silly, isn’t it?” 

“You’re not silly, Estelle,” Nadia assures her, somber. “It’s hard to have eyes on you all the time.”

Estelle throws her head back with a sigh. “Gods, when you put it that way -- ”

“I’m sorry, my words of comfort might not be sufficient for this,” she apologies so sincerely, her low voice humming with warmth. “I must be numb to it.” 

“It gets easier, then?” 

“It does, if you have good support.” There’s a quirk at her lips, which Estelle returns in kind.

“Well, I’ve got the best.” 

“You do, don’t you?” Nadia purrs, sliding the sheets down over her hips, uncovering Estelle’s barely-covered skin. The air is cool, making her touch all the hotter. She slips her fingers under the waistband of her satin shorts and Estelle tilts her hips towards her, whining. “Spoiled thing.” 

“Your fault,” Estelle teases her boldly -- Nadia traces over the mound between her legs, regarding her thoughtfully.

“I believe that to be a shared responsibility between myself and your former teacher.”

“You’re forgetting Julian and Portia -- " Estelle giggles, brazen even with her fingers so close to her entrance. The heat between her legs is flaring, Nadia’s eyes upon her blushing face making it near a scorch.

“I ought to punish you for that wicked tongue.” 

“Is it _really_ a punishment if I enjoy it?” 

Chortling, Nadia slowly withdraws her hand and leaves Estelle to whimper, scolding her. “What cheek -- you’ve been seeing too much of that menace of a doctor, lately, hmm?”

A rush of worry cools the agonizing heat between her thighs as she realizes. “I’m sorry -- does it really bother you?” 

But Nadia is so quick to reassure her, comfort her. A tickle of feathery hair on her back jolts her upright as Nadia leans her forehead against hers. She kisses her brow. “No, truly. You know I don’t mind. I am happy that you have company in this frustrating time, I just wish more of it could be mine.”

“It feels so backwards,” she laments. “We’re getting married, and yet we’ve hardly been able to see each other.”

“I’ve seen more of Valerius in the past few days than I have my own parents in twenty years,” Nadia complains through a chortle, right against her ear.

“They’re wonderful, by the way,” Estelle feels compelled to tell her. “Your parents. I like spending time with them.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” It’s an honest reply, but frustration is evident in her even voice. She looks aside, rubbing at her temples as she offers her a weak smile. “I know they’re all just trying to be supportive, but I do hope they’re not overwhelming you. It’s difficult to be on the receiving end of so much of their attention, in particular.”

“They’re a little intimidating, but they’re very kind,” she admits, and Nadia looks to be pleased. “Your sisters as well -- they all seem to like talking with me, but it makes me as nervous as it does happy.”

“I hope they behave themselves today,” she scoffs and Estelle kisses her shoulder.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“Just don’t let them pressure you into anything,” she says firmly, sounding only like the Countess and not like herself. “Weddings may be for the people, but at the end of the day, your word is final. Don’t be afraid to be assertive, even with them.”

“Really? I don’t want to say or do anything that might offend -- "

Nadia cups her chin, lifting it high. Her tone softens, but her eyes burn with a bright intensity, immobilizing. “Estelle, you are my bride, and whatever you want, you will have. I will see to it.”

“Yes, my lady,” she says obediently, inhaling slowly when the Countess smiles at her again.

“Good girl. Come, we’ve let the tea sit too long already.” 

Nadia slides gracefully off the bed, pulling aside the sheer, fluttering drapery as Estelle quickly follows behind. She slips a robe about her shoulders, striding to the chiffonier and Estelle seats herself, sticking her feet into slippers from under the cabinet. She breathes in slowly, elderberry swimming in her head as Nadia pours a cup for her first -- the dribble of tea waterfalling into the cup is the most comforting sound. Waiting until Nadia has poured some for herself, Estelle takes a small sip -- it’s not very hot now, but the rich, sweet taste sits pleasantly on her tongue. She lets a few moments of quiet pass before her anxious thoughts reach her mouth again.

“I should have expected as much,” Estelle says, “but I’m still so surprised at how exhausting all this preparation is.”

She watches Nadia’s eyes roll from just over the ridge of her cup. “Gods, I know. All this mess. I wish we could just elope,” she laughs at her own joke, chest heaving, but Estelle looks thoughtful. 

“That’s an idea.”

“If only!” Nadia breaths one more laugh before frowning. “I’m afraid privacy is the one luxury I cannot afford, as Countess.”

“I could forego the title of royal consort if it meant we could have a private affair.” She’s mostly joking, mostly just wanting to make light of their plight, but Nadia looks stern, dropping another spoonful of sugar in her cup.

“Darling Estelle, in all seriousness, you know that in marrying me, you must also marry dear Vesuvia.”

She knows. The thought is paralyzing. She doesn’t want it to be, but here she sits, arrested by the concept. She thumbs over the rim of her tea cup, eyeing the extravagant ring on her left hand -- it’s impossible not to grin down at it, but when her fingers twitch, she feels the weight of a suffering city. 

“Nadia, do you really think I could do it?” she croaks. “Be a leader?”

It’s her turn to be cheeky. “I wouldn’t be marrying you if I didn’t.” 

Estelle smiles weakly, eyes drawn to the swirling contents of her cup. She watches Nadia take two or three bites of a pink confection, not expecting her to say anything further but snaps to her when she does.

“My words can’t provide you all the confidence you need, but if, at any point, you should need assurance that you are not alone,” she says lovingly, gently, “I will be right here. Every time the voices in the darkest corners of your mind feed you poison.” 

Estelle sets down her cup, reaching across the spread of breakfast to hold her hand -- the diamond on her finger catches sunlight. Dazzling patterns of light dance across their gleaming skin as they lace their fingers together, grasping each other tightly. 

“I love you, Nadia.”

“I love you too,” she coos. 

And then as if on cue, a soft knock on the door alerts them to Portia’s presence and they break their stare, whirling their heads around to meet the bubbling servant girl’s eager smile. 

“More tea, miladies?” 

“No, Portia, I think we should ready for the day, don’t you?” 

Estelle nods in earnest, and so they do.


End file.
